Disclaimer: cf chap. 1

Author's note:

A very BIG THANKS to TillyRose who helps me write this fic, corrects my errors with a patience (and so quickly too...), rewrites some of my sentences that are not very english ;-)

Thanks also to those who reviewed, and to those who read; I hope this chap won't disappoint you.

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Two men sit in a room at one in the morning. Through cheap curtains, moonlight pierces the room, illuminating the two figures. One of the men is perched tensely on the edge of a bed, his long brown hair concealing tears that refuse to fall. His vision is swimming, and although he is staring at the carpet, his eyes can't make out the tacky print. The other man is pacing the short length of the motel room; every gesture an effort, every move painful. His fists would be clenched if he had the energy.

Why had he told Sam that story? He had sworn to himself to always be silent. Sam already had enough on his plate; he didn't need his brother's ghosts. A burden fell abruptly onto Dean's shoulders. God, he was so tired! It suddenly occurred to him that he had stopped walking. And when had his eyes closed? He could feel himself swaying, he couldn't move anymore; the exhaustion was beating him. He was briefly aware of falling, then strong hands under his armpits, supporting him.

"I've got you, I've got you." Sam's whispered. Dean felt himself be moved up and onto the bed, then Sam's hands gently guiding him backwards to lie down. Dean wanted to protest; he wasn't a child. But the effort just to open his mouth seemed insurmountable. He let Sam shuffle around him on the hard mattress, fixing a pillow under his head. He just wanted to slip into oblivion, to forget all of this. He tried to ease his breathing, to regain the calmness that characterized him. As a blanket was being draped over him, he immediately started to sweat. He needed to feel the cold air on his skin before he choked on the stuffy warmth that suffocated him. He pushed back the blanket in an untidy gesture.

"Too hot…" he whispered, his dry, tired throat struggling to form sound.

"Dean?" Sam said softly. He could understand his brother's fatigue. It was probably more emotional than physical. But if he was feverish...

"I'm not sick, Sam." Dean stated; who knew what Sam was thinking. It made him wonder who the real psychic was.

"You're obviously exhausted and probably coming down with something." his brother retorted gently.

"I'm okay." Dean said quietly.

Sam chose not to harass his brother. Dean was already upset; he didn't want to upset him further and the best way to do that was to avoid mother-henning him. He moved away to sit on the other bed. However, after a slight pause, he found he couldn't stay still and begun pacing the tracks his brother had previously walked. The more he walked, the more clearly he deciphered all the emotions he was feeling.

Firstly, he was mad at his father. He had always disagreed with the man but here; it was too much. He had hit Dean. His father had hit the only person who meant the world to Sam. As he was opening his mouth to express his anger, he snapped it closed. Truth is, he was more sad than angry and Dean didn't need an angry brother. Dean needed the support and the comfort that his little brother was more than willing to give him.

"What's the connection between this and the fact you didn't go to college?" Sam whispered. As soon the words had left his mouth, he knew the answer.

"You wanted to protect me." he whispered, his eyes again full of tears. He stopped his pacing, looked at his brother. Lying still on the bed with red scars that contrasted sharply with his pale face, Dean looked so fragile; so far from the tough image he showed usually...Dean opened his eyes. Not for the first time of his life, Sam marvelled his brother's capacity of recovery. Even if Dean still looked incapable of moving a muscle, his eyes seemed clearer and...calmer?

"Believe me; you didn't force me to do anything." Dean fidgeted a little under his brother's sceptical stare.

"Okay," he admitted, "It probably influenced me a little". Sam glared at him and this time, Dean didn't hold back.

"Truth is; I didn't really know what I wanted to do back then. It seemed so weird; you know, to think that I could get away from all this, the hunt, the desperate people... To forget that Mom was dead and that I could live for myself. I really didn't know how. I had never done that before. I always had to take care of you or Dad or people who needed our help. And Dad, he gave me an excuse to stay." At Sam's inquiring look, he explained.

"I guess I was afraid of what was outside this existence, ya know? The way we live, it just keeps us so isolated from the rest of the world. I… I guess I was just scared of living a normal life. And when Dad hit me..." Dean's voice quivered a little. Just for a second, he closed his eyes.

"When Dad hit me, I became scared of what he might do to you." Dean said softly. "And I said to myself that I couldn't leave you, that I couldn't go to college because Dad could do something... And at the time, the idea wasn't so weird; I mean, you two fought all the time. Maybe Dad didn't need to be drunk to become violent. Especially with you..."

"But when I went to college..."

"Then I realized why I couldn't go..." Dean looked at Sam right in the eyes and this time, Sam was stunned by his brother's strength.

"Sam, I love this life." his brother said, clearly, forcefully. "I love to be able to help people, I love to fight, I love how it makes me feel when I kill those S.O.B's, I love to know that I somehow made someone else's life better, to know that people will remember me as someone who helped them…" Dean spoke with so much conviction that Sam felt something he hadn't for many years: the unlimited, infinite, absolute admiration of a little boy that thinks his big brother can save the world. Except here, Sam didn't think his big brother could save the world; he was quite sure of it. A boyish grin appeared on his lips.

"You're a true hero, you know that?" he said. As expected, a red blush appeared on Dean's cheeks and he turned his head away from Sam, clearly embarrassed. That amused Sam a lot. He sat on Dean's bed and repressed the desire to pull his brother into his arms. He opted instead to grip Dean's shoulder, a gesture of comprehension, a gesture of love. And he felt the slight tremors that agitated his brother's body.

"Dean?" he called softly. His big brother had still the head turned away from him. At the lack of response, he got up silently and laid the blanket over his brother before turning off the light.

His big brother was sleeping; now Sam could go to sleep.

END Chap 3

TBC

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A/N:

Well this is it... I really hope you enjoyed it coz it was really hard to write ;-) If you liked it, tell me; if you didn't, tell me too. Still one more chap, I think. Bye!

L'insomnie des etoiles